Number 12
by twilightladies
Summary: "Mr. Cullen, you received the package?" the smooth voice inquires over the phone. "I did. I'd like to arrange a meeting with Number 12 at your office. Tomorrow." My entry for the Control, Possess, Seduce Contest
**Thank you to Pattinlethr, MidnightCougar, SparklyMeg and MariahjilE for their help. As always they made it worth reading.**

*Number 12*

"Everything will be taken care of, Mr. Cullen. We've received your request and will send you options later today."

"And I can expect complete confidentiality, correct?

"That's correct, sir. Everything will remain confidential. The details will only be passed on once you've made your decision."

"I look forward to hearing from you, then."

*Number 12*

"Sir, the package you've been waiting for has arrived. Would you like me to bring it up?"

"Thank you, Jane, but there's no need. I'm packing up for the day, and I'll collect it on my way out. You can leave now, if you wish."

Grabbing my bag and jacket, I head for the elevator. There's no point in pretending I can focus on work now. I want what's in that envelope. I'd been nervous about the call and even thought about retracting my inquiry, but it's all I can think about.

Jane's already gone, but as requested, she's left the package in her top drawer. I tingle with excitement, and I'm tempted to open it right now. Keeping my head, I place it in my bag next to my laptop and make my way home.

*Number 12*

I pour myself a large scotch and take a seat at the desk in my library. Carefully, I open the envelope and lay all the documents out before me.

The agency's done well. I provided them with a specific list of requirements, and I half expected a call to say they didn't have anyone suitable.

It's not often people prove me wrong.

In front of me are photos of some of the most beautiful women I've ever seen; short hair, long hair, curvy, petite, redhead, and brunette. As I clearly specified, there are no blondes.

Not like _her._

A striking redhead catches my eye. I think my decision is made. She's tall — very tall — with long, pale legs and curves most women would die for. The swell of her breasts is tempting enough to have my cock hardening.

It's only once I reach the end of the pile that I dismiss her for a petite brunette. The look she's giving the camera has me palming myself through my pants. Her lips are painted the deepest red, and the thought of them wrapped around my cock as I fuck her mouth makes me come in minutes.

Immediately, I call the agency.

"Mr. Cullen, you received the package?" the smooth voice inquires over the phone.

"I did. I'd like to arrange a meeting with Number 12 at your office. Tomorrow."

*Number 12*

The meeting's set, and it's all I can think about. Number 12 — or Isabella, as I now know her — will be ready as I requested, with her hair down and wearing that red lipstick I can't get out of my head.

Shortly before 2:00, I arrive at the address given. It's downtown, which surprises me. I don't know why, but I assumed it wouldn't be hidden in plain sight. I'm glad I remained in my gray suit; I blend in with all the other "business" going on around me.

The moment I step through the glass doors, a leggy blonde approaches me.

"Mr. Cullen? Ms. Norton is expecting you. This way, please."

I follow her down a long corridor, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Soft, low jazz tunes are piped in, helping soothe my nerves. I focus on that and not what's waiting for me behind one of these doors.

Ms. Norton's office is at the end of the corridor. The receptionist gently knocks on the door and leads me inside.

"Thank you, Irina. Please assist Isabella and bring her down in ten minutes." Irina nods but remains silent as she leaves.

I take a seat in one of the comfortable leather chairs opposite Ms. Norton.

"Mr. Cullen, Isabella will be joining us shortly, but before I introduce you, I wanted to run through a few things to make sure we all understand each other."

"Go on."

She smiles. "As you know, we're an escort service, the best in Chicago. The women here are intelligent, beautiful, and motivated. Most of them have aspirations beyond this assignment, and in many cases, this is a means of paying their way through school. I truly care about my employees, and my primary concern is their safety."

Ms. Norton moves from behind her desk and comes to lean against it, directly in front of me. "I know what occurs with other escort agencies in the city, Mr. Cullen, and I need to make sure you understand that won't be tolerated here. These women are to appear as dates, friends, or companions, but if you're looking for sex, you need to go elsewhere."

I'm not sure if her comments are meant to offend, but they do. I try to keep my voice calm. "I'm not looking for a whore, Ms. Norton. If I were merely after sex, there are plenty of women I know who'd be all too willing. As I've already mentioned, I need a companion to accompany me on a trip to Seattle for my high school reunion. It's a weekend event and will include a formal dinner. I want someone who can handle herself well in a social situation and won't look bored to tears. My schedule doesn't allow time to meet a lot of women and certainly none I want to introduce to my peers."

She watches me for a moment, searching for something more than the truth. There's slightly more to my reasoning, but it's not something I wish to share with anyone.

Finally, she smiles. "Well, Isabella's a very good choice, Mr. Cullen—"

"Edward. Please."

"Okay, Edward." She nods and stands. "Let's go meet Isabella, shall we?"

Ms. Norton walks me to the elevator but doesn't join me inside. "Press the button for Level One. Isabella's expecting you."

*Number 12*

Standing in front of me is a woman right out my dreams. As requested, her long, dark hair is down, with natural waves flowing through it. She's dressed perfectly in a tight, knee-length black skirt, red blouse with sheer sleeves, and high black pumps. Even with so much of her skin covered, I want her. Her makeup's natural, except for the red lipstick I asked her to wear.

The photo I received didn't do her justice, and I tell her so.

She smiles, instantly drawing my gaze to her lips. "Thank you, Mr. Cullen." She steps forward. "Let's take a seat and discuss your plans, sir."

I follow her over to a sofa by the window, my eyes lingering on her ass.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Water, please." I ignore the bottles of scotch I see in the corner.

She returns with a glass for each of us, taking a seat next to me so close that our thighs are touching.

"Does this bother you?"

I clear my throat. "Should it?"

She looks at me but doesn't say anything. I try not to let it show how much her interest affects me.

I'm calling the shots here, not her.

"I have a question."

"That's why I'm here, Isabella, to answer your questions."

"This isn't a question about our plans." She turns in her seat to face me and crosses her legs. I gaze down, my eyes caught by her smooth skin. I wonder how they would feel, how she would taste.

"Oh?"

She smirks, having caught my perusal.

"Well… You're an _extremely_ good-looking man. I was wondering why you'd resort to an escort service." My gaze falls back to her legs and her foot, which is currently rubbing up against my leg. "I'm sure there are plenty of… willing… women who'd like to be by your side."

I pick up my water and trail my fingers around the edge, very aware of the slight gasp that falls from her lips. I remain silent, enjoying the possibility I affect her the same way she does me.

"There are, Isabella," I admit. "Sex, feelings… They can be distracting. I want a professional."

"Honesty." She smiles. "I like it. Well, why don't we get started?"

*Number 12*

The remainder of our meeting is spent going over the plans for the following weekend, and with each hour that passes, Isabella continues to tempt me. She barely leaves her spot next to me and touches me at every opportunity.

"Three events." She raises her eyebrows at me. "That seems extravagant for a school reunion." We'll be expected to attend a meet-and-greet dinner on the first night, a dinner dance on the second, and an afternoon tea on the final day.

"It's an extravagant school."

"Okay." While I use the opportunity to watch her without her noticing, she focuses her attention back to the paperwork I brought. "Well, I'll be prepared for all of them."

"Thank you, Isabella." I collect the paperwork and gather my things. "Should I collect you from here on Friday?"

She nods and stands with me. "I think that will be easiest."

"Is there anything else you need from me?"

She moves closer, and with each step, I can feel my will slipping away. It's been an afternoon of foreplay; soft, lingering touches and her foot rubbing higher and higher up my leg. Those boundaries set in place by Ms. Norton seem to be fading, and I want nothing more than to push up that tight little skirt and fuck her over the back of the couch.

"Just one thing, Mr. Cullen."

She stops right in front of me, and it takes everything in me to not pull her into my arms, to hold her so tight that I can feel every inch of her delectable body.

"What's that, Isabella?"

She trails one finger down my chest, a move so innocent yet it has me rock hard in seconds. Her nails match her lipstick, and my mind's full of thoughts of her hand and mouth wrapped around my cock. She'd be on her knees, pumping me and moaning as I fucked her mouth.

"Our relationship."

Now it's my turn to raise my eyebrows. "Relationship, Isabella? I'm paying you to attend a function with me, and as Ms. Norton informed me, there are rules."

I stifle a groan as she steps onto her tiptoes, her body now flush against mine, and whispers, "Some rules are meant to be broken, Mr. Cullen." I close my eyes, relishing the feel of her heat.

"At your reunion, are we colleagues? Friends? Or… _lovers_?" She whispers the last word, sending heat straight to my cock. She can feel it and hums in approval.

"That last idea appeals to you, Mr. Cullen?"

"You know it does."

"Hmm… I think I like that idea, as well."

"Good." I clear my throat, taking a step back. "It should make convincing everyone easy, then."

She smiles that little smile again, and I think that might be my favorite part about her.

"Before you go, I think we should practice."

I can't deny that I'm intrigued. "Practice what, exactly?"

She hooks a finger through my belt loop and pulls me back toward her. "I particularly like the sound of the convincing part."

"Kiss me," she whispers, and the last of my will crumbles. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her flush against me, my mouth crashing to hers. I feel her smile against my lips, as if she's won some sort of contest, before she kisses me back.

As soon as she does, it's like a light has switched on inside me. My hands on her hips aren't enough, and I trail them up her body, enjoying her curves. Her hands fist the hair at the nape of my neck, rendering me undone. Just when I think I'm in control, she pulls hard enough to force my head back and peppers kisses from my mouth down my neck. Her teeth nip, while her tongue and lips follow, gently soothing the sting.

It's been a long time since someone's taken control like this, and fuck if it doesn't make me hard as steel.

My hands move to the zipper on her skirt, but before I can get her where I want her, she steps back.

We're both panting, and she tries to smooth down her hair. Her lipstick is smudged, and I'm pretty sure the other half is on my lips. She delicately runs her fingers around her lips, before placing her hand over her heart, which I hope is pounding as fast as mine.

"Well," she says in a breathy voice. "Professionally speaking, I think we've got the convincing part down."

*Number 12*

On Friday morning, a car collects me as the sun begins to rise. At my request, the driver plays a mix of classical music. My hope is that it'll create a soothing atmosphere, because I know as soon as Isabella's next to me, I'll be on edge. I get comfortable and close my eyes, letting the music wash over me.

Isabella's been on my mind the entire week, and this morning, my body — particularly my cock — is aware we'll be spending a lot of time together over the next few days. She's perfect, exactly the sort of woman to have on my arm for this event. She's smart and beautiful, and even I can't deny the chemistry between us.

My cock twitches as I think back to the kiss that had me practically running from the office. I barely made it home and into the shower before coming so hard that it made my knees buckle. Yes, it was hot, but it was a lapse in control on my part. Unless we're in the company of others, it's something that won't happen again.

The car pulls up outside her building, and within seconds, Isabella's sliding in the other side. She's dressed in jeans and another red top, even though she'll be sitting in a plane for a few hours. Her black jeans look like they're painted on, but it's her heels that have my main focus. They're black, with a ridiculously sharp heel I instantly picture cutting into my ass as I fuck her while she wears them and only them.

I shift in my seat, trying to focus on anything else. Mere seconds in her presence have me reacting like a horny teenager wanting to lose his virginity.

Aside from a brief smile and a quiet "good morning," she says nothing. I watch her for any sign of nerves or the fact she might want a repeat performance of the kiss, but she shows neither.

I ignore the pang of disappointment.

"Our flight is scheduled to leave on time. We should arrive in Seattle by early afternoon."

She shifts in her seat so she's facing me. "Sounds perfect." Her eyes remain on me, but she stays silent.

Her gaze has me frozen like a deer in headlights. As much as I want to look away, I can't.

And that's not good. I need to put distance between us.

Now.

"Isabella, I want to talk to you about the other day. That kiss—"

"Was perfect," she interrupts. "But I know what you're going to say."

"You do?"

She nods and leans forward, placing her hand on my leg. The heat sears through my pants, burning as she slides her hand up.

Close.

Close.

Closer.

But she pulls back and places it on her lap as if nothing happened. "That unless we're in the company of others, we can't kiss again."

"Well… yes. I'm glad you understand."

She hums and breaks eye contact, leaning back in her seat and looking out the window.

I watch her for a few moments, relieved at how easy that was. I look away, partly confused as to why I also feel annoyed she gave up so quickly.

"I don't, you know," she murmurs.

I look over, and she's still looking out the window.

"I won't say I understand, 'cause that was a fantastic kiss. I know you felt what I did." She sighs and closes her eyes. "But just so you know, I'm going to do everything within my power to ensure we're in situations where I get to kiss you as much as possible." She eyes me from under her lashes. "Because, Mr. Cullen, I'm a woman who knows and gets what she wants."

*Number 12*

The reunion's being held at the Woodmark Hotel, a five-star hotel situated on the shores of Lake Washington. It's luxurious, but instead of flashy, in-your-face luxury, it boasts a simple elegance that makes it stand out in its own way. For me, it's the picturesque views of the city skyline and mountains that make it a favorite.

"Mr. Cullen, the Lake Washington suite is ready for you. Derek will take your bags." A man appears seemingly from nowhere and takes our bags before making his way to our suite.

I nod, taking the key from the receptionist. "Thank you."

I guide Isabella toward the elevator, my hand on the small of her back. She shivers, and I bite back a grin.

"After you," I murmur, bending slightly so my lips graze her ear.

Once inside, I press the button for the floor we need.

"I figured you for a penthouse suite type of man, Mr. Cullen."

She's smiling at me, and I can't help but return it. She's also spot-on. "Normally, yes, but this suite has the best view and a private balcony."

"We have a view over the water?"

I nod. "Your stay will be most comfortable, Isabella."

She moves closer to me in the tight space, and for each step she takes, I take one backward until I'm backed into the corner.

"You didn't mention the bedroom," she whispers, taking another step, closing the final gap between us.

The feel of her body against mine is something that's plagued my thoughts all week, yet my dreams have nothing on reality.

"I thought it was a given there will be a bedroom."

She wraps her arms around my neck. I know I should remove them, but I don't. The hold this woman has on me is unnerving. I feel every ounce of control I have slipping away with each second I spend with her.

"Just one, Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes." The word comes out in a soft whisper. I clear my throat. "Only one bed, Isabella."

She grasps the curls at the bottom of my neck, tugging on them, which sends fire straight through my body.

"I get to share a bed with you?"

"I… I was going to sleep on the sofa. It… pulls out."

She shakes her head and stands on her tiptoes. Her lips brush mine in the most innocent of kisses — once, twice, and a third time — before she steps away. "Don't. I want you in bed with me."

The elevator dings, signaling the arrival at our floor, and she casually steps out.

I follow quickly, spinning her before she can get any farther, and push her against the wall. I place my hands on either side of her face so she can't get away, trying to ignore the way my body's responding to being so close to hers.

"Is this a game to you, Isabella? I think we _both_ know what will happen if we share that bed."

Her gaze locks with mine. "I'm counting on it."

*Number 12*

Later on that afternoon, I wait in the living room for Isabella. Although the formal event is tomorrow, I still wear a gray suit and black shirt with a matching black tie, knowing many of the gentlemen attending will be in something similar.

Following our "discussion" in the elevator — and after — we went our separate ways to get ready. I took a quick, cold shower and let Isabella have the bathroom. Her eyes had grown wide at the large bath, so I knew she'd take advantage of it.

I used the time to try and process what the hell had happened. I started this day off in control of the situation, yet she caused me to completely lose it. Another five seconds in the elevator, and I would've happily fucked her in it.

I'm brought out from my thoughts by a throat clearing, and I turn to see a stunning Isabella in the doorway.

"Can you zip me up?" She turns, revealing her bare back to me.

When I don't move, she looks over her shoulder. "Mr. Cullen?"

"Of course," I murmur, stepping behind her.

I place my hands on her hips, slowly trailing my finger around to the zipper, which starts just above her ass. After that, they have a mind of their own. They slip beneath her dress, exploring every delightful inch of skin exposed. She shudders as I reach her shoulders and push the dress off them.

"You look delectable, Isabella, but I assume you know this." I place a lingering kiss on her shoulder, pushing the dress farther down her body so it bunches at the waist.

"I'm— I'm glad you think so, Mr. Cullen," she stutters, letting her head fall back onto my chest.

I grin, palming her beautiful tits, making her arch her back against me.

"I think we've reached the point where you can call me Edward, Isabella." She moans but doesn't say anything in response.

"I'll take that as a yes." I pinch her nipples, and she rolls her head to the other side.

She's panting and gyrating her hips against my hardening cock. All I can think about is pulling off that dress and devouring her in the bedroom.

Instead, I pull her sleeves back on and zip her up. We both have a role to play tonight.

She turns to face me, looking deliciously sexy. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are wide, and her breath is ragged.

"Ready, Isabella?"

She takes my arm looking deep into my eyes. "Are you?"

I nod.

Yes. I'm the one in control.

*Number 12*

The reception is boring, and the dinner's even worse. It's full of people who remind me why I hightailed it to Chicago as soon as I finished school.

When the last course is cleared, a jazz quartet begins playing in the corner, attracting some of the bolder couples to the dance floor. I excuse myself and go to the bar, telling Isabella I'll return shortly. She's kept easy conversation with another petite brunette next to her and nods to acknowledge she heard me.

At the bar, I order a large scotch as I scan the crowd… again. I try to pretend I'm not looking for anyone in particular, but I am. I'm looking for that certain shade of blonde hair. I'm listening for that high-pitched giggle that used to send my heart into overdrive.

Instead, I catch the deep brown eyes of my date. With a simple look, the want flares up again. Even across a room, she sets my heart pounding and the blood rushing through my veins like fire.

She smirks, excuses herself from the table, and makes her way over to me, with her eyes never leaving mine.

Not for the first time tonight, I take in her curves in that deep emerald dress. The dress is form-fitting, dipping low in the front, teasing me with glimpses of her cleavage. From the swell of her breasts to the flare of her hips, it flatters her curves perfectly. She stands out in the crowd, her bright dress against a sea of white, black, and silver. She's the polar opposite of what I came to face this weekend yet, at the same time, what I want to forget.

With her eyes locked on me, she misses the appreciative glances she receives from a number of other men in the room. But I don't. In an instant, a surge of possessiveness roars through me, something I haven't felt for a long time. I want these men to know she's mine.

I order a glass of champagne, which the bartender places next to my scotch as she steps in beside me.

"Some interesting people at the table," she says, taking a sip of her drink.

"Are they?" I wasn't particularly interested in listening to people I didn't know reminiscing about stories that didn't involve me.

"They weren't your friends? They were so friendly and chatty. I just assumed..."

I down the rest of my drink. "They never have been. Those people didn't even know who I was in school, although I'm sure they do now. Funny what money does to people, isn't it?"

"Oh." I know she wants to say more, or wants me to say more, but I don't offer anything.

"I'd like to dance." I change the subject, reminding her she's paid to be here. She's here to do a job.

She's not here to be my friend.

"Of course." She places her glass on the bar and lets me lead her to the dance floor.

We dance in silence, her body molded perfectly to mine. As I watch a good majority of the males in the room eye her like a piece of meat, I hold her tight. The possessiveness returns with a vengeance as I tighten my grip on her waist. Every time I do, she reassures me by either squeezing my shoulder or running her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck.

I try to hide my smile.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I look down at her, taken back by how close we've become. Her lips — that seductive bright red — are so close. All it would take is the slightest move from myself or Isabella, and suddenly, that's all I want.

"I, um…" I clear my throat, looking to the door.

She smiles and nods. "Shall we go back to our room?"

*Number 12*

Isabella remains close as we walk back to our suite, her hand grasped in mine.

I hate that I like how that feels.

The closer we get, the more our pace quickens. Apparently, I'm not the only eager one. The elevator's crowded with people, so our ride's cramped. I place my hands on her hips and pull her flush against me, enjoying the shiver that ripples through her body.

As we arrive at our floor, she grabs my hand and leads me to our suite. She fidgets through her purse, almost dropping it, before finding the key card.

Her eagerness amuses me. "Anxious, are we?" I lean forward, pressing her against the door. She almost drops the key, and I hear her sigh.

"Isabella, when we get in there, I. Want. This. Dress.Off." I trail my fingers from her shoulders and down her arms, taking the key from her hand. I open the door for her, but she remains where she is.

She breathes heavily. I can feel her body against mine as she takes deep breaths, trying to calm down.

"You want me naked, Mr. Cullen?"

I nod against her shoulder, pushing her hair out of the way so I can kiss the skin there.

"Yes." It occurs to me she might not be as okay with breaking the rules as I first thought. "If you're happy with forgetting the rules for one night."

"Oh, Mr. Cullen. I'm more than happy to forget the rules."

Once inside, she goes toward the bathroom. "I'll be right out." Her confidence returns, and I'm rewarded with her smile, which pushes any doubt from my mind.

While she tends to whatever she has to, I go to the bedroom, knowing this is where I'll be spending my nights. I was so naive to think there was any other option where Isabella's concerned. I turn on the lamps, kick off my shoes, and slacken my tie before I sit on the edge of the bed.

And wait.

Minutes later, the bedroom's basked in the light from the bathroom, and my breath is almost knocked from me as my gaze lands on Isabella. Her dress is gone, and in its place is a black lace corset — cut so low that her tits are almost spilling over the top — and matching panties attached to garters.

And fuck me if she isn't wearing her black pumps.

"I know you requested I be naked, Mr. Cullen, but it seemed like such a waste to ruin something I bought specifically for this trip."

 _Fuuuuuuck._

She saunters into the room, stopping in front of me. "You—" I clear my throat. "You bought it for this trip?"

She kneels in front of me, placing her hands on my knees.

"I did."

Her hands get to work on my zipper, and I follow her directions when she asks me to lift so she can pull my pants and boxers down. My cock bobs in front of her, and she licks her lips as if she's looking at her favorite candy.

"Tell me what to do, Edward."

I yank my tie over my head and remove my shirt.

"I want you to suck my cock, Isabella."

Her wide eyes meet mine before she leans forward and wraps her lips around me. I fall back onto my elbows, ignoring the urge to lie back completely, and focus my attention to the sight in front of me. It's something from my dreams, from my fantasies, but those don't compare to the real thing.

Her mouth is warm, and when she hums, I have to control the urge to thrust. Her hands wrap around what she can't reach, moving in tandem and almost ending me. Her mouth hollows as she sucks me into her mouth as far as she can, scraping her teeth against my length.

"Mmmm… Fuck."

She leans back, wrapping her hands around my legs and pulling me right to the edge of the bed. "You're holding back on me. _Don't."_

I stand as she tightens her hold on my legs and opens her mouth, taking me in once again.

"As you wish, Isabella."

My cock slips past her lips, earning me a hum of approval.

"Faster, Isabella."

Another hum, and her grip tightens on my legs.

"You." _Thrust._ "Like." _Thrust_. "This." _Thrust_. "As." _Thrust_. "Much." _Thrust_. "As." _Thrust_. "I." _Thrust._ "Do." _Thrust._ "Don't you?"

She moans, and I know I won't last as long as I want to.

"I'm close, Isabella, and it's all for you."

I look down in time to see her close her eyes as she starts moving faster, encouraging me to let go.

"Yes," I grit out, coming so hard that I almost see stars. Her movements don't falter as she swallows, letting my cock fall from her mouth. I flop back on the bed, not caring how ridiculous I look. It's been a while since I let a woman do that and even longer since one had me coming so quickly.

I look up and see her standing over me, watching me recover. She looks even more beautiful than she did earlier, all flushed with ruffled hair, smudged makeup, and in that skimpy underwear set. She looks nothing but fuckable.

I smile. "We're doing that again."

I'm rewarded with a knowing grin that makes me smile even wider. "What happened to the rules?"

"Fuck the rules."

I feel the bed shift as she lies next to me. "So we're sharing a bed?"

I turn my head to look at her. "We, Isabella, are most definitely sharing a bed this weekend."

I reach for her and pull her to me. My hands drift to the top of her underwear, but her hand catches mine before I can go any further.

"Tonight was about you, Edward."

"But you enjoyed it…"

She clasps my hand in hers. "Very much. But it's been a long day, and I'd rather save my energy for tomorrow night."

I smile. _Tomorrow._

*Number 12*

The following morning, I wake before Isabella. In the peace and quiet, as the sun rises and sends its dull orange rays dancing along the floor, I take the time to watch her. She looks so peaceful, so innocent. When a smile graces her lips, I wonder what she could be dreaming about. For a moment, I allow for a small glimmer of hope that it's me occupying her dreams.

Leaving her wrapped in our covers is extremely difficult, but I get out of bed and pull on my boxers from last night. I know we missed breakfast, so I call room service and order a few different things.

My mind wanders to last night and how it was the perfect way to take the edge off. I knew this weekend was going to be difficult for me. School wasn't a good time in my life; I was the easiest target for the school bullies, with my unruly hair, bad acne, and cheap, huge glasses. It got even worse when I was old enough to notice girls, with one in particular being the cruelest of all. As soon as school finished, I left with my tail between my legs. I'd been humiliated, and I never wanted to see them again.

I kept my head down through college. The acne disappeared, I was able to afford better glasses, and I saw a coach for my stutter. I grew into myself, and women started to notice me. I liked that.

I promised myself I'd never let people have that control or power over me again.

This weekend, I wanted to show them how much I've changed, how I'm in control in every aspect of my life.

I'd been set on my goal, but it seems with each plan I make, Bella throws me a curveball. Normally, this wouldn't make me happy, but something about the feisty brunette in my bed makes it okay.

There's a knock at the door, and I get up to let the waiter in. He places all the plates on our table and leaves just as Isabella makes her way into the room… wrapped only in the sheet from our bed.

"You're awake."

She smiles, looking down, and it astounds me that this seductress is shy in the light of day.

"I woke up, and you weren't there."

I smile, gesturing to a seat at the table.

"I needed to order breakfast before it got too late."

She pouts, walking over to me. She stands so close that I can see how hard her nipples are through the sheet.

"I…"

"You?"

She clears her throat, looking up at me. "I like having you in my bed, Edward."

I kiss her softly, surprising us both. "The feeling's mutual, Isabella. I enjoyed it very much. In fact, I can't remember the last time I slept so well."

Her answering smile is dazzling. "Good." She steps away, oblivious to the effect she's having on me by standing so close in nothing but a sheet.

"Now, what did you order for breakfast?"

*Number 12*

After breakfast, I surprise Isabella with a booking at the spa for the day. Work takes up most of my time, and that doesn't change just because I'm away for the weekend.

I set up my "office" while Bella's in the shower, sit at my computer, and wait. I stand as I tell her about the booking, and her smile makes me grin in return. I'm caught off guard when she jumps into my arms.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Nobody's ever done something like this for me."

I frown. It's such a small, simple thing, and she deserves more than a spa day. I can't offer this beautiful woman much, but she at least deserves a pamper session.

"Please relax and enjoy it," I murmur.

She pulls back, keeping her arms around my neck. Her fingers have automatically found their place in my hair, and I close my eyes in pleasure.

"I will. I've been told I'll need my energy for tonight." Her eyes say everything her mouth doesn't. Heat travels through me as my cock gets the memo she's not talking about the energy required for dancing at the event.

I smirk. "I rather enjoy the way you think, Isabella."

Instead of replying, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me softly, pulling away before I can deepen it.

"Thank you, Edward."

I know I need to stay away from her. Any relationship we have won't last beyond this weekend. It's something I need to keep reminding myself, but the longer I'm with her, the stronger the pull to her becomes.

*Number 12*

Being in control is something I've always been able to pride myself in, both on a personal level and in the workplace. Ever since that group in school screwed me over, I quickly figured that being in full control and keeping people at a distance are the best way to prevent people from taking advantage. If you don't let people in, you can't get hurt. They all give up sooner or later anyway, so I figure I'm doing everyone a favor.

But this reunion's thrown me a curveball that has the ability to knock me clean off my feet.

And the blame lies with Isabella Swan.

I didn't count on her getting under my skin, but as the hours tick by, I can feel the loss settling deep within my stomach. It's uncomfortable and something I'm not used to. At all. I begin to find it difficult to focus on my work; spreadsheets blur into one another, numbers don't make sense, and I finally give up when I send an email to myself.

There's a feeling of what can only be described as emptiness surrounding me. The room feels too quiet, like it won't feel right until she's back here, like she belongs here with me.

My body almost vibrates at the need to feel her touch.

I need it.

I crave it.

I want to hear her laughter, to be the reason for her laughter.

And I shouldn't.

Work forgotten, I go downstairs to the main hotel bar. Given the time of day, it's quiet and I find a secluded table in the back. The staff's busy moving tables and chairs for tonight's function. I nod to the bartender, the same one from last night, and within minutes, he brings over a large scotch.

"Keep them coming, and I'll make it worth your trouble."

"Sir." He nods.

Sitting alone with nothing but my thoughts is a bad idea. I don't want to be hammered by the time we have to attend tonight's event, but I can't keep my head straight. The more I think, the more I drink. I know there are limitations with Isabella; that was the main appeal of the escort service. I didn't want the complications that come along with sex and feelings. But whenever I'm with her, those boundaries seem to disappear.

For both of us.

I'm on my third scotch when I hear her. Her laugh echoes through the room, and I turn to find her at the bar, grinning and throwing her head back at something the bartender's said.

She's beautiful.

I watch them interact, and my jealousy's almost at its limit when he leans over the bar to get closer to her. I wish I was close enough to hear what he's saying. Why is she laughing? Why does he have to lean over the bar to speak to her? Is that the sort of guy she finds attractive? I halve his tip when I watch him reach for her hand, his fingers slowly trailing over hers. The only gratification I feel is that she doesn't seem to reciprocate his feelings and gently pulls her hand away.

I down the rest of my drink and join her, placing my glass on the bar with more force than is probably necessary. The noise startles them both, and the bartender straightens up immediately. His fake smile, so different from the one he was trying to dazzle my Isabella with, is firmly in place, only serving to rile me up further.

"Another, sir?" He smiles, but it falls flat when he catches the look on my face.

I shake my head, taking Isabella's hand in mine. "We were just leaving."

If it had been anyone else but her, I would've found the look on his face amusing. Like a rabbit caught in headlights, he can only nod and take my empty glass, grimacing at the small tip I've left him.

Maybe he'll keep his hands to himself — and off what's mine — next time.

*Number 12*

The silence between us is tense on the way back to our suite. I try to cool my features and to calm the fuck down before I say or do something I'll regret.

I have no right to act this way. I try to push down the jealousy, refusing to let it simmer at the surface with the threat of bubbling over.

Isabella should be nothing to me. A date. An escort. A means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just as I'm only a client — a job — to her.

The thought makes my stomach drop, and for the first time this weekend, I'm able to admit to myself that I want to be more than just a job to her.

But can I?

We arrive at the elevator, and I impatiently press the button for our floor, looking up and watching the numbers as they light up.

"Edward?"

"Isabella?"

"Is— Did something happen?"

"Is that the sort of man you like, Isabella?"

She tugs on my hand, forcing me to look down. "Who? What are you talking about?"

"The barman who was all over you. Is that your type?" I sound petulant, I sound jealous, and I sound insecure.

I hate it.

She glances back to the bar and then to me. She looks confused before smiling sweetly. "You think I like him?"

I sigh, wishing the elevator would move a little bit fucking faster. I don't want to do this right now, not in public.

"He was interested, and you seemed to like the attention."

She rolls her eyes. "Please. He's a bartender who makes his living from tips."

I look away from her, focusing once again on the elevator lights, noting how she never answered my question.

Finally, the door opens, and I follow her inside, dropping her hand.

The doors close behind us, surrounding us in silence. There's a lot I want to say, yet I don't know how to say it. I've never been in this position; Isabella breezed into my life, knocking everything I know into a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty. The control and the structure I've always known are slowly slipping right into her hands.

The thought of someone having that much _power_ over me terrifies me.

She slips her hand back into mine as she stands next to me. "He's not my type, Edward," she murmurs. "I thought I'd been very clear this weekend about who my type is."

My heart flips at her words. It's not the first time she's made her intentions clear, but it's the first time I've heard her meaning.

"I didn't like it," I admit. "He was touching you."

Her thumb strokes my hand, the simple gesture almost making my knees buckle.

"The only hands I want on me are yours, Edward." She moves so she's standing next to me, not leaving an inch of space between us. It's close but not close enough.

I want her stripped bare and spread out before me. I want to cover her body with mine, to learn all the ways I can make her moan my name.

I turn slowly, wrapping my arm around her waist. She takes a step back so she's trapped against the wall. Her eyes dance with anticipation as she watches me. She licks her lips, her cheeks flushed an incredible pink color.

She's beautiful.

"I don't want to see that again this weekend."

She nods, her hands fisting in my hair. "It won't happen."

"You're mine."

"I'm yours," she agrees.

*Number 12*

"I've run us a bath."

I look up to the door of the bedroom where Bella's wearing the robe provided by the hotel.

Her hair's down, curling around her shoulders and dipping between the front of the robe, which is slightly open. I can see a hint of cleavage, teasing me.

She's a seductress and has no idea what she does to me.

I put my phone down, my emails quickly forgotten. "Us, Isabella?"

She leans against the doorway, trailing a finger down the gap in her robe, teasing.

Oh.

She knows exactly what she's doing to me.

"Us."

"There's room for two?"

The gap widens, and I can see the swell of her breast. "It'll be a little snug, but I'm sure we can manage."

I stand. "Is that right?"

She holds her hand out, and I take it without question. "Definitely." She guides me farther into the bedroom, pushing my shoulders when my knees hit the bed. My eyes don't leave hers as I sit, and she moves to stand between my legs.

Her hands drift from my shoulders, down my chest, and over my stomach where she gathers the material in her hands. I take over, pulling my sweater over my head and dropping it on the floor next to us.

"Now what?" I question.

She leans forward, purposely giving me an eyeful of her chest. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

" _Please."_

She captures my lips with hers, teasing and taunting, making me want more. I find the sash of her robe and slacken it, letting my hands roam over the skin bared to me.

She shivers under my touch, making me smile into our kiss.

Pulling away, her cheeks are flushed, and she's never looked more enticing than she does right now. Unable to help myself, I lean forward and softly kiss her again.

She smiles, grazing her lips with her fingers. "With just a kiss," she murmurs quietly, just loud enough for me to hear.

Before I can reply, she sinks to her knees and begins to undo the zipper on my jeans. I lift my hips, letting her pull them and my boxers down. Once they get to my feet, I kick them off the rest of the way, and she finishes by removing my socks.

My cock bobs between us, leaking from the tip. She licks her lips, smirking as it twitches in approval.

"Isabella? Are you down there just to look at it?"

She looks up at me, all wide-eyed and innocent. She shakes her head gently. "No. I definitely want a taste."

My reply dies in my throat as she takes the tip of me between her lips, keeping eye contact and slowly sucking in every inch. I bite back a groan when she repeats the movement. She works at a slow pace, keeping me on the edge but never enough to push me over. My stomach tightens, and I fight the urge to flop back on the bed and enjoy this. Instead, I lean back on my elbows, watching as my cock glistens and slips between her lips.

When she hums and wraps a hand tightly around the base of my cock, I know I won't last. I grind my teeth, trying to prolong the pleasure.

Isabella seems to have other ideas. The more I fight it, the harder she works me. Her hand works in tandem with her mouth, and when her teeth graze me ever so slightly and my tip hits the back of her throat, I'm a goner.

"Isabella," I groan, trying to warn her. She sucks harder, and it's mere seconds later that I come hard, with Bella swallowing everything I offer. Spent, I fall back onto the bed, panting embarrassingly, as if I've just finished running a marathon.

For minutes, nothing but my heavy breathing fills the air. I wait for it to become awkward between us, for something to happen that makes her realize she doesn't want this, doesn't want me, or the usual uncertainty to creep over me, forcing my walls back up.

Instead, when I sit up and catch her watching me with an extremely pleased look on her face, I realize there isn't any of that.

Something zings in the air between us. Excitement. Lust. Tension.

I take her hand in mine. "Come here," I whisper, helping her to her feet. The robe's pointless at this stage, the tie having come loose and revealing her naked form underneath.

"Take it off."

Within seconds, it's pooled by her feet.

"Now?"

"Get on the bed."

I see her body almost vibrating in anticipation as she climbs onto the bed on her hands and knees. Once in the middle, she moves onto her back and spreads her legs.

 _Fuck._

"That's twice, Isabella. Twice you've made me come with that talented mouth of yours." I glance at the clock on the bedside table. "We don't have time to do all the things I want to do to you right now, but we're going to have some fun before our presence is required downstairs."

Her legs tremble, and I watch her body dip and rise as her breaths come out in quick gasps.

I crawl onto the bed, aligning my body with hers. I kiss her quickly, loving how her body arches off the bed as she tries to deepen the kiss.

"Time to even that score, Isabella," I mumble against her lips.

We forget the bath.

I make her come hard.

I make her come fast.

And I make her come twice.

*Number 12*

As we arrive downstairs, dinner's being announced.

Isabella squeezes my hand, bringing my attention to her. I lean down as she stands on her tiptoes. "Is it just me, or are you not that bothered by missing the drinks reception?"

I think back to when Isabella was naked on our bed, legs spread, and fingers tight in my hair, holding my face against her as I brought her to her second orgasm of the afternoon.

I grin. "I'm sure what I tasted was much better."

She gasps, playfully swatting at my shoulder, but I don't miss the smile she tries to hide.

"C'mon. Let's go find out where we're sitting."

The suite's buzzing, with many of the guests already seated. The tables and chairs are covered in black, with candelabras in the center of each table. At the back of the room, a stage is set, waiting for the band, which will start after dinner has finished.

"We're over here by the dance floor."

We approach our table, where everyone has already found their seats. The couples are standing around and chatting among themselves, waiting for us to arrive.

A small, familiar brunette sees us approach and smiles. "Bella, I was beginning to think you two weren't coming!"

"Sorry. We got a little held up. I had a spa afternoon, and my day just ran away from me." She wraps her arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Angela." I nod. I remember she was at our table last night, although I barely said more than two words to her. I think back to school, trying to place her...

She catches my confused look and laughs. "You don't recognize me?"

"I'm sorry. I—"

She shakes her head. "Don't worry. I was telling Bella last night how I went through a blonde phase when I was in school. I looked totally different. It was my way of trying to be one of the cool kids."

I nod, feeling slightly better. "I tended to blend into the background," I admit.

She laughs. "I was going through my rebellious phase. It took me a while to remember you. Don't worry."

We take our seats as the MC announces dinner, and then our plates and glasses are full in front of us. A low murmur fills the hall, and I decide to make more of an effort tonight with everyone. Since I didn't know them at school and vice versa, I can't really lump them together with the people who made my school life hell. We didn't know each other, but they didn't run in the same circles as those I hated. In fact, when they come up in conversation, Angela scoffs, shaking her head.

"Maggie and her little group of wannabes?"

I shrug. "She seemed okay at the beginning. She was always nice to me."

Angela laughs. "Yeah. She could turn the charm on like nothing else when she wanted something."

"Sounds about right."

"You knew her?" She tilts her head to the side. "You didn't exactly hang out with that crowd."

"Let's just say I figured _that_ out a little late." I smirk and roll my eyes, feeling better that I wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Bella's hand on my knee takes my attention away from the conversation, and when I catch her gaze, I'm met with a questioning look. I know she won't ask me here, but she knows.

She knows something happened to make me bring an escort to my school reunion.

I'm going to have to tell her if I want to pursue any chance of a relationship with her.

*Number 12*

"You were him, weren't you?"

Angela stands next to me at the bar, and I look over her shoulder for Isabella.

"She's dancing with my husband." She rolls her eyes. "That's never a good sign. It's probably time to cut him off."

"Oh." I find them on the dance floor, and Bella's laughing at Angela's husband's moves. I smile automatically, looking back to Angela, who's still watching me intently.

I sigh. "Yeah. It was me."

"But what… I mean, the rumors… Where?"

"My parents took me out of school at my request. I was homeschooled until I went to college."

She's shocked. "I didn't realize it was that bad. I mean, it was just a test—"

I snort. "Well, it meant more to them."

She places a hand on my shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Before I can reply, Isabella returns.

"Ben's gone to the bathroom," she tells Angela. "Edward, can you order me a water?" There's a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, making her hair curl ever so slightly. Her cheeks are flushed, and she wets her lips as she looks at me.

She shuffles from foot to foot, patting down her hair. "What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing." If I told her how beautiful she looks, she wouldn't believe me anyway.

"Great," Angela mutters. "I'll see you both tomorrow. I have to carry my lightweight husband to bed."

I pass Isabella her water as Angela leaves us. "She seems nice."

"She is. And she's right; her husband's a lightweight."

I smirk, wrapping my arm around her waist and kissing her on the forehead, catching her off guard. She looks up at me with a slight smile on her face. "There's nobody around. You don't have to kiss me."

"I'm not kissing you because I have to."

*Number 12*

The evening comes to a close around midnight. True to her word, Angela didn't return, and I surprisingly spent most of the night on the dance floor with Isabella.

Something sizzles in the air between us, both of us too scared to mention it first. With only one event left, though, my time with Isabella's running out, and I want her to be mine before we return to Chicago.

The last song has finished, and we make our way back to the table so Isabella can collect her purse. "You looked like you had a better time tonight."

I nod. "I did. I wasn't so…"

"Uptight?"

I choke out a laugh. "I was uptight?"

"Do you really have to ask?" She laughs, her eyes dancing as she playfully shoves me.

I shrug, dodging another shove. "I had something on my mind. Now, it's not so important."

She watches me intently, her eyes searching my face for something. I know she wants to know, but she won't ask until we're in the privacy of our own suite.

"Shall we?" I reach out and take her hand.

She lets me lead us out of the function room. "I just have to collect my wrap from coat check." She points to the small line to the right.

It's while we're waiting that I hear _the_ voice. The voice that was always the loudest among the jeers and shouts. The laugh which pretty much haunted me for the remainder of my adolescent years.

I look toward the front of the line, past all the people ahead of us, and finally see her. Always the ringleader, Maggie's with her friends, leaning over the counter and giggling hysterically at whatever the attendant is saying. I want to roll my eyes that he'd fall for it, but of course he would. We all did.

 _I_ did.

Someone closer to the front must grumble about how long it's taking, because the attendant finally returns Maggie's jacket, not being shy at letting everyone know he's also handing her his number.

I keep my attention on her as she approaches us. The girl from high school is still there, hidden in a woman's body. She's tried to fight the aging process, resulting in someone who looks older than her years. Her hair's still the same peroxide blonde I remember, her face shows signs of Botox, and her dress is made for someone ten years younger. I imagine if she'd aged gracefully and wore something more suitable — and elegant — then she'd look a lot better.

"Edward, do you know her?"

I nod. "I did."

Bella hmms but doesn't say anything, her gaze moving from me to Maggie. I want to tell her, to explain, but I'm frozen. It's as if I'm back in high school, the victim of all the popular kids.

Part of me hopes they recognize me, but the larger part hopes they walk past and continue with their evening.

The moment Maggie sees me is almost comical. She does a double-take, her pretty, fake smile faltering, before thinning into the smile I know and hate. She whispers something to her friend as they make their way toward us.

"Well, if it isn't Sullen Cullen!"

I flinch, glancing to Bella whose eyes are still locked on Maggie. She's frowning and wraps her arm around my waist.

I don't acknowledge the name from high school, hoping she'll carry on walking after I've said nothing.

She doesn't.

"Didn't think you'd be invited since you never actually finished school."

"Maggie," I acknowledge.

The line moves, and Isabella and I take a few steps forward. Maggie stops in front of us, looking me up and down. It's the polar opposite of when Bella does it. With Bella, there's heat in her eyes, as if she wants to devour me. With Maggie, it's like a cat stalking its prey.

"We should have a drink to celebrate." She looks back to her friends, who I now recognize as the same group from school. "It's been a while, and you look hot now. Totally changed. I like it."

I can almost feel Isabella vibrate with anger next to me.

"No, thanks. I already have a date. This is Isabella."

Maggie looks at Isabella, clearly sizing her up. "Nice to meet you. I'm Maggie. Edward and I go _way_ back." The insinuation's loud enough for everyone to hear.

"We were in some classes together," I clarify. "And she lived around the block from me."

Her smile falters. "You make it sound so boring. We were a lot closer than that." She winks, and on cue, her friends giggle along with her.

"So, Isobel, you're here with Edward?" She offers her hand to Isabella.

"It's Isabella. And yes, I'm Edward's girlfriend." It's not the first time I've heard that word this weekend, but the more I hear it, the more I like it, especially the way she practically growled the word at Maggie.

"Oh." Maggie steps closer, ignoring Isabella. "And here I was hoping we could catch up this weekend. You know, put high school behind us and create some new memories."

Before I can reply, Isabella cuts in. She stands in front of me, her hands on her hips. "Take a hint. He's taken. He doesn't want to catch up with you, and he certainly doesn't want to _create_ anything with you, nevermind new memories."

"I wasn't asking you." Maggie's facade falls, her eyes narrowing as she glares at my date.

"I don't care," I interrupt. "We weren't friends in school, Maggie, so why would I want to catch up with you? You hated me, and by the time I left, the feeling was more than mutual. You can play any game you want, but I'm here with Isabella." I take a step back and wrap my arm around her shoulder. "I'm not interested."

She watches us, her friends pulling rank behind her, but in the end, she just turns to leave. "Your loss."

Isabella tries to take a step forward, but I stop her. "Don't. Don't give her the satisfaction. She's just trying to get a rise out of you."

Silence engulfs us as we wait to move to the front of the line, the tension lingering between us. My arm feels heavy on her shoulder, like a weight that needs to be lifted. She shifts next to me, fidgeting and playing with imaginary lint on her dress.

In a slow turn, I move her to face me. She looks up, her eyes wide and with a tiny glimmer of uncertainty, which I hate. In the space of ten minutes, after a conversation with someone who doesn't even matter, what we had this afternoon is gone. I cup her face and lean down, kissing her softly, and smiling when she relents and kisses me back. Hopefully, it says everything I can't say in front of everyone down here.

"I was having a wonderful evening. Don't let her affect us. Don't let Maggie ruin it..."

She smiles, stepping forward and handing her ticket to the attendant. When he returns with her wrap, I place it on her shoulders and take her hand in mine. The crowd from earlier has all but gone, with only a few stragglers lingering in the bar, so getting back to the suite is quick and easy.

Back upstairs, Isabella immediately excuses herself. I linger in the living room of the suite before following her to the bedroom. Whatever this is between us needs to be addressed, and it needs to be now.

"Isabella?"

She exits the bathroom, wiping her eyes discreetly, and my heart sinks. "Are you okay?"

She fans herself, smiling weakly. "The wine must have gotten to me."

I stand in front of her. "The wine?"

She nods. "Who was that woman, Edward? Is she the reason I'm here?"

I take her hand, leading her to the bed, where we both sit on the edge. "She was, yes."

"She was... an old girlfriend?"

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. "No. The opposite."

She frowns. "I don't understand."

"When you were at school, was there a group of girls that, even without anyone saying anything, ruled the school? People either feared them or followed them? All the guys wanted to date them?"

She nods.

"Well, Maggie and her group were those girls. She transferred halfway through sophomore year. She fit in immediately and became the most popular girl in school." I chuckle. "I... Well… I was the geek that crushed hard. I followed her around like a lost puppy, and she lapped it up, of course. I didn't think she'd even noticed me, until she approached me one day when we were seniors."

"Why do I have a feeling I'm gonna wish I'd slapped her downstairs?"

"I appreciate the sentiment." I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles softly. "She... Maggie had a way of getting what she wanted. During senior year, she was at risk of flunking out. Too many classes missed, not enough tests passed… You get the picture. She played on my crush, made me believe she liked me, but behind my back, she was just laughing at me. I let her into my life, let her see a side of me I didn't show anyone because they didn't seem to care enough. And I thought she did." Just talking about it again has me back there, surrounded by people who hated and belittled me.

"Edward, I—"

"At the end of the year, it became apparent what she was after. I was helping with her homework more than ever. She wanted answers for tests, or she wanted me to take tests for her. Then she wanted me to steal test papers so she could have the answers and sell them to the rest of the class. But that wasn't me. I worked my ass off at school. I wasn't about to hand the answers to the jocks just so she could make money. So I said no."

"And she didn't take that well?"

"No. I wanted to fall back into the obscurity I'd known, but everyone knew it was me who wouldn't help Maggie and her group of friends. They were facing summer school, and some of the jocks were forced to sit out the final games of the season. Everyone at school hated me, and I was picked on worse than ever — tripped in the hallways, stuffed into lockers… You name it. The teachers tried to help, but there's only so much they could do. So I begged my mom to take me out of school." I sigh. "The school administrator sympathized with my situation and allowed me to be homeschooled for the remainder of the year. I only set foot on campus to take my exams, but that was enough time for Maggie to have one last go at me. She told me I was useless, how easy it was to play me, and how she had all the control."

Isabella shifts closer to me, closing the small gap between us. When she rests her head on my shoulder, I take comfort in the gesture.

"I just… You need to know I have some issues with control."

"I had no idea," she murmurs, making both of us giggle.

"When I received the invitation, I knew Maggie would be here. There's no way she'd miss the opportunity to show everyone from school how she's made it. I knew I'd see her, and I knew something would be said—"

"So you wanted a professional by your side when it happened."

"Yes. I didn't want the mess of a relationship, of having to explain all this—"

She stands abruptly. "Of course. I get it. You shouldn't have to explain this to _me_."

I follow her as she storms through the suite. "Bella, wait."

She stops abruptly, causing me to almost crash into her. "What did you just call me?"

"Oh... I just assumed... Well, everyone else seems to call you that. I thought it was maybe… It's fine. I—"

"Say it again."

I smile and pull her to me. She grins back at me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Bella."

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. "I've been waiting to hear that all weekend. I hate being called Isabella."

"Why?"

She shrugs. "Ms. Norton makes me use it. It's classier."

I cup her face in my hands, waiting until her eyes meet mine. "I _wanted_ to tell you about Maggie before we ran into her. I _want_ you to know about my past."

"You do?" she whispers.

I kiss her softly. "Yes."

"Why?"

I smile, letting my lips brush hers again. I can't seem to stop myself. "Because I want you to know _me_. I want to be more than your client. I want to continue seeing you in Chicago."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure Ms. Norton—"

I burst out laughing, cutting her off. "Silly girl, I don't want to see you as an escort. I want to see _you_ , date _you_. I want to be able to call you mine."

"I'm already yours, Edward."

*Number 12*

Nobody has ever kissed me the way Bella does. Every time is like the first time. The way her soft lips move against mine, always so eager and savoring the moment. Memorizing.

Her hands roam my body as she pushes me, and I feel like all my Christmases have come at once when she whispers, "Move with me." With her body against mine, she directs me to the bedroom, stopping only once my knees hit the end of the bed. The bedside lamp is the only light in the room, making it feel cozy, intimate.

I sit, pulling her close to me and watching as her hands work the buttons on my shirt, popping them open one by one. Her fingers slide under my shirt at the shoulders as she pushes it off my body.

"Now what?" I murmur.

She smiles that smile, her nails digging into my skin as she trails her hands down my chest. The sensation catches me off guard, making me hiss in pleasure.

She reaches the top of my slacks and undoes the belt.

"Lift."

I do as she says, and she pulls my slacks and boxers down in one movement.

I watch her as she watches me, and her eyes dance over my body as if they don't know where to look first.

She reaches for my cock, which is begging for attention.

"No. Turn."

She smiles and does as I say.

"You looked beautiful tonight. I'm not sure I told you enough." I stand close enough behind her so our bodies are touching, smiling when I see her involuntarily shiver. I like that I have the same effect on her.

There's an inch of skin where her shoulder meets her neck that had my attention all evening. Pale. Smooth. Begging to be licked.

So I do.

She tilts her head to the side, breathing my name as she does.

I undo the buttons on the back of her dress, going much faster than she did with my shirt. As soon as they're free, she wiggles a little, the dress pooling at her feet.

"You were naked? This whole time?"

She turns, wrapping her arms around me as she faces me. "Did I forget to mention that?"

"Must've slipped your mind," I mumble against her lips. She smiles before giving in to the kiss.

Gone are the tentative kisses from earlier. Need consumes us both, as hands wander, teeth nip, and tongues soothe. We tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, and I end up beneath her, totally at her mercy as she straddles me.

"Bella—"

"How about you let me lead for a while?"

 _Like she hasn't been in control since day one._

She reaches between us, wrapping her hand around my cock. I sigh, closing my eyes as she strokes me slowly, knowing how to bring me to the edge without falling over it. She begins to rock over me, the movements in sync with her hand. I bite back a groan when I feel her pussy over me, already so wet.

So ready.

When my stomach begins to clench, my cock throbbing almost painfully with the need to come, I wrap my hand over hers, stopping her movements.

She looks confused but only for a second. She smiles softly, licking her lips. She lifts her hips, and I love that we're thinking the same thing.

 _More._

As she takes me in inch by hard inch, she leans forward and holds out her hands. No words are needed; I know what she wants: our complete connection everywhere. I raise my hands, and she slowly threads our fingers together, squeezing gently as they completely connect with mine.

We are now one — body and soul. We both know it. There's no going back.

A vision above me, Bella moves with the confidence of a woman who knows what she likes and knows how to get it. The way she works me, uses my body for her needs, makes her even more beautiful to me. She leans back, and her chest thrusts out. Her mouth is slightly open as she breathes through her pleasure. Shadows dance across her body, making me want to follow them with my tongue.

I can't take my eyes off her.

Her hips quicken, the slow pace forgotten as the need to come takes over. She rests her hands on my legs and lets me take over.

Lets me take control.

I can feel every exquisite inch and the way she trembles; she's as close as I am.

My hand slips between us, finding her clit with ease. She hisses, her thrusts turning into sharp movements. My hips meet hers — as she moves down, I thrust up — and her answering moan echoes throughout the suite.

Whispered pleas and words of encouragement — _harder, faster_ — fill the air. When it becomes too much for her, she flops forward, her chest against mine. Slick skin against slick skin, we move faster and faster until I feel her clenching tight around me. Everything becomes too much; her whimpers as I continue to move against her, the way she nips at my collarbone, and the slight tug of my hair have me coming hard only moments after her.

We remain joined together until I can feel her shivering. I kiss her forehead softly. "Get under the covers with me. Let's sleep."

We're apart for only the seconds it takes to surround ourselves with the duvet. As soon as we do, she's back in my arms, her leg thrown over mine. She looks up at me with a lazy smile, and I know this is it.

She's it.

*Number 12*

The following morning, we sleep late. When I wake, Bella's already awake and facing me. Last night's makeup is smudged under her eyes, and her hair's styled in a mess that can only be described as sex hair, but she still manages to look gorgeous.

"We're going to miss afternoon tea if we don't leave soon."

I roll on my side, mirroring her position. "About that."

"What about it?"

"What do you say to leaving early?"

She leans up on her elbows, hovering over me slightly. "You want to leave?" She frowns, and it occurs to me she thinks I want this weekend to be over, that I want what we've had this weekend to come to an end. The uncertainty is clear on her face, the silence awkward between us as we try to figure out where to go from here.

"I'm ready to leave my reunion, Bella. That's it. These people are my past. I thought I had something to prove to them." I close the gap between us and place my hand on her hips. I'm distracted by her smooth skin but only for a moment. "But you've shown me I don't." I cup her face gently in my hands, kissing from her chin to her mouth.

She remains still, but I can feel the beginning of a smile.

"You're my future, Bella. My Number 12 _,_ and we're only getting started…"

*Number 12*

 **Thank you for reading!**


End file.
